


Cacoëthes

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-15
Updated: 2006-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He wasn't sure how he'd let it go that far, but it had become a full-fledged fantasy over the last couple of weeks, one that starts with McKay calling him on the radio in the middle of the night.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cacoëthes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Casspeach for beta-reading.

John wasn't the only one with the ATA gene but, as Dr. Weir kept reminding him, he had it stronger than anyone else and he also had a kind of natural control over the Ancient equipment, so it was his radio that was always going off when they needed something activated in the labs.

"Major Sheppard," McKay's voice said in his ear, "could you come here and touch something for me?"

That was all it took, just a few words and John was getting hard. He wasn't sure how he'd let it go that far, but it had become a full-fledged fantasy over the last couple of weeks, one that starts with McKay calling him on the radio in the middle of the night.

In his fantasy, he gets to the lab to find McKay alone and the lights dimmed, and when he asks what he needs to touch, McKay slides one broad hand down the front of his khakis, the gesture an unmistakable invitation that makes John's breath catch and sends arousal tingling down the backs of his thighs and up into his belly. He steps forward and reaches his hand out, fingers outlining the shape of McKay's cock through the layers of fabric, pressing his palm against it and feeling McKay arch into him.

McKay's hand comes up and wraps around the back of John's neck, pulls him closer until their foreheads are touching and they're breathing the same warm, humid air. Slowly, McKay closes the last of the space between them, his lips barely brushing against John's, and by this point John's so hard that he aches to be touched.

He fumbles with the buttons on McKay's pants, finally getting them open but not before McKay's got both of them turned around, got John's back pressed up against the wall, and John's panting like he just finished a 5k run. When he goes to slide his hand into McKay's boxers, his fingers itching to touch skin, McKay backs up until he's just out of reach and John doesn't move with him but stays where he's standing, up against the cool polymer wall panel where McKay put him.

"I thought you needed me to touch something," John says, and he doesn't even care that his voice trembles.

McKay smiles, slides his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. "Yes, well, you turned it on very nicely, Major," he says, raising one hand to his mouth and slowly licking his palm. John makes a small involuntary noise at the gesture. "But I think I can handle it from here." Then McKay leans back against the table and takes his cock in his hand, stroking slowly down the shaft, and John can see exactly how hard he is, see the drops of precome gathering at the tip, and there's nothing he wants more than to drop to his knees at McKay's feet and take that beautiful, needy cock into his mouth.

He doesn't, though. He holds himself still against the wall, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and watches the easy glide of McKay's hand, each caress ratcheting up his own arousal until his body's virtually humming with it. The movements don't stay lazy for long, though. McKay puts more of his weight on the table behind him, leaning back on his free hand, and his strokes speed up. John's hips are shifting, too, tiny movements in perfect sync with McKay's, and John flattens his hands to the wall to stop himself from reaching for his fly.

McKay's eyes close, his mouth drops open, and John can hear the shift in his breathing from _oh, yeah_ to _yes, oh God, yes, now_ and it makes his own breath hitch. The brief glimpse of tongue-tip as McKay licks his lips is enough to send tendrils of heat trailing from the pit of John's stomach to his cock, enough to make him arch away from the wall a little in an unseen appeal for touch. Then McKay's coming, his body bowstring taut, and John has to close his eyes too, because it's too much, too intense. He wants to press himself up against McKay, wants to gentle the shuddering aftershocks of his orgasm and feel the slide of sweat and come-slick skin against his own.

When he opens his eyes again, McKay's watching him, his expression a combination of knowing and smug that's uniquely McKay, and that's usually where the fantasy ends, John coming from the weight of McKay's gaze alone, but now he was almost to the labs and there was no way he could show up in the state he was in. A quick detour into a supply closet, fumbling his BDUs open almost before the door had shut behind him, and his problem was taken care of embarrassingly quickly.

When he showed up to the lab a few minutes later, McKay held out a purple sphere. "Here, touch this." John's cock twitched just a little and he knew he was doomed.


End file.
